Socrates. WHY have you come at this hour, Crito? it
must be quite early.
Crito. Yes, certainly.
Soc. What is the exact time?
Cr. The dawn is breaking.
Soc. I wonder the keeper of the prison would let you in.
Cr. He knows me because I often come, Socrates; moreover. I have
done him a kindness.
Soc. And are you only just come?
Cr. No, I came some time ago.
Soc. Then why did you sit and say nothing, instead of awakening
me at once?
Cr. Why, indeed, Socrates, I myself would rather not have all
this sleeplessness and sorrow. But I have been wondering at your peaceful
slumbers, and that was the reason why I did not awaken you, because I wanted
you to be out of pain. I have always thought you happy in the calmness
of your temperament; but never did I see the like of the easy, cheerful
way in which you bear this calamity.
Soc. Why, Crito, when a man has reached my age he ought not to
be repining at the prospect of death.
Cr. And yet other old men find themselves in similar misfortunes,
and age does not prevent them from repining.
Soc. That may be. But you have not told me why you come at this
early hour.
Cr. I come to bring you a message which is sad and painful; not,
as I believe, to yourself but to all of us who are your friends, and saddest
of all to me.
Soc. What! I suppose that the ship has come from Delos, on the
arrival of which I am to die?
Cr. No, the ship has not actually arrived, but she will probably
be here to-day, as persons who have come from Sunium tell me that they
have left her there; and therefore to-morrow, Socrates, will be the last
day of your life.
Soc. Very well, Crito; if such is the will of God, I am willing;
but my belief is that there will be a delay of a day.
Cr. Why do you say this?
Soc. I will tell you. I am to die on the day after the arrival
of the ship?
Cr. Yes; that is what the authorities say.
Soc. But I do not think that the ship will be here until to-morrow;
this I gather from a vision which I had last night, or rather only just
now, when you fortunately allowed me to sleep.
Cr. And what was the nature of the vision?
Soc. There came to me the likeness of a woman, fair and comely,
clothed in white raiment, who called to me and said: O Socrates-
"The third day hence, to Phthia shalt thou go."
Cr. What a singular dream, Socrates!
Soc. There can be no doubt about the meaning Crito, I think.
Cr. Yes: the meaning is only too clear. But, O! my beloved Socrates,
let me entreat you once more to take my advice and escape. For if you die
I shall not only lose a friend who can never be replaced, but there is
another evil: people who do not know you and me will believe that I might
have saved you if I had been willing to give money, but that I did not
care. Now, can there be a worse disgrace than this- that I should be thought
to value money more than the life of a friend? For the many will not be
persuaded that I wanted you to escape, and that you refused.
Soc. But why, my dear Crito, should we care about the opinion
of the many? Good men, and they are the only persons who are worth considering,
will think of these things truly as they happened.
Cr. But do you see. Socrates, that the opinion of the many must
be regarded, as is evident in your own case, because they can do the very
greatest evil to anyone who has lost their good opinion?
Soc. I only wish, Crito, that they could; for then they could
also do the greatest good, and that would be well. But the truth is,
that they can do neither good nor evil: they cannot make a man wise or
make him foolish; and whatever they do is the result of chance.
Cr. Well, I will not dispute about that; but please to tell me,
Socrates, whether you are not acting out of regard to me and your other friends:
are you not afraid that if you escape hence we may get into trouble with
the informers for having stolen you away, and lose either the whole or
a great part of our property; or that even a worse evil may happen to us?
Now, if this is your fear, be at ease; for in order to save you, we ought
surely to run this or even a greater risk; be persuaded, then, and do
as I say.
Soc. Yes, Crito, that is one fear which you mention, but by
no means the only one.
Cr. Fear not. There are persons who at no great cost are willing
to save you and bring you out of prison; and as for the informers, you
may observe that they are far from being exorbitant in their demands; a
little money will satisfy them. My means, which, as I am sure, are ample, are
at your service, and if you have a scruple about spending all mine, here
are strangers who will give you the use of theirs; and one of them, Simmias
the Theban, has brought a sum of money for this very purpose; and Cebes
and many others are willing to spend their money too. I say, therefore, do
not on that account hesitate about making your escape, and do not say, as
you did in the court, that you will have a difficulty in knowing what to
do with yourself if you escape. For men will love you in other places to
which you may go, and not in Athens only; there are friends of mine in
Thessaly, if you like to go to them, who will value and protect you, and
no Thessalian will give you any trouble. Nor can I think that you are justified,
Socrates, in betraying your own life when you might be saved; this
is playing into the hands of your enemies and destroyers; and moreover I
should say that you were betraying your children; for you might bring them
up and educate them; instead of which you go away and leave them, and
they will have to take their chance; and if they do not meet with the usual
fate of orphans, there will be small thanks to you. No man should bring
children into the world who is unwilling to persevere to the end in
their nurture and education. But you are choosing the easier part, as I
think, not the better and manlier, which would rather have become one who
professes virtue in all his actions, like yourself. And, indeed, I am
ashamed not only of you, but of us who are your friends, when I reflect that
this entire business of yours will be attributed to our want of courage. The
trial need never have come on, or might have been brought to another issue;
and the end of all, which is the crowning absurdity, will seem to have
been permitted by us, through cowardice and baseness, who might have saved
you, as you might have saved yourself, if we had been good for anything (for
there was no difficulty in escaping); and we did not see how disgraceful, Socrates,
and also miserable all this will be to us as well as to you. Make
your mind up then, or rather have your mind already made up, for the time
of deliberation is over, and there is only one thing to be done, which must
be done, if at all, this very night, and which any delay will render all
but impossible; I beseech you therefore, Socrates, to be persuaded by
me, and to do as I say.
Soc. Dear Crito, your zeal is invaluable, if a right one; but
if wrong, the greater the zeal the greater the evil; and therefore we
ought to consider whether these things shall be done or not. For I am and
always have been one of those natures who must be guided by reason, whatever
the reason may be which upon reflection appears to me to be the best;
and now that this fortune has come upon me, I cannot put away the reasons
which I have before given: the principles which I have hitherto honored
and revered I still honor, and unless we can find other and better principles
on the instant, I am certain not to agree with you; no, not even
if the power of the multitude could inflict many more imprisonments, confiscations,
deaths, frightening us like children with hobgoblin terrors. But
what will be the fairest way of considering the question? Shall I return to
your old argument about the opinions of men, some of which are to be regarded,
and others, as we were saying, are not to be regarded? Now were we
right in maintaining this before I was condemned? And has the argument which
was once good now proved to be talk for the sake of talking; in fact an
amusement only, and altogether vanity? That is what I want to consider with
your help, Crito: whether, under my present circumstances, the argument appears
to be in any way different or not; and is to be allowed by me or disallowed.
That argument, which, as I believe, is maintained by many who assume
to be authorities, was to the effect, as I was saying, that the opinions
of some men are to be regarded, and of other men not to be regarded. Now
you, Crito, are a disinterested person who are not going to die to-morrow- at
least, there is no human probability of this, and you are therefore not
liable to be deceived by the circumstances in which you are placed. Tell
me, then, whether I am right in saying that some opinions, and the opinions
of some men only, are to be valued, and other opinions, and the opinions
of other men, are not to be valued. I ask you whether I was right in
maintaining this?
Cr. Certainly.
Soc. The good are to be regarded, and not the bad?
Cr. Yes.
Soc. And the opinions of the wise are good, and the opinions
of the unwise are evil?
Cr. Certainly.
Soc. And what was said about another matter? Was the disciple
in gymnastics supposed to attend to the praise and blame and opinion of
every man, or of one man only- his physician or trainer, whoever that was?
Cr. Of one man only.
Soc. And he ought to fear the censure and welcome the praise
of that one only, and not of the many?
Cr. That is clear.
Soc. And he ought to live and train, and eat and drink in the
way which seems good to his single master who has understanding, rather than
according to the opinion of all other men put together?
Cr. True.
Soc. And if he disobeys and disregards the opinion and approval of
the one, and regards the opinion of the many who have no understanding, will
he not suffer evil?
Cr. Certainly he will.
Soc. And what will the evil be, whither tending and what affcting,
in the disobedient person?
Cr. Clearly, affecting the body; that is what is destroyed by
the evil.
Soc. Very good; and is not this true, Crito, of other things which
we need not separately enumerate? In the matter of just and unjust, fair
and foul, good and evil, which are the subjects of our present consultation, ought
we to follow the opinion of the many and to fear them; or the opinion of
the one man who has understanding, and whom we ought to fear and reverence more
than all the rest of the world: and whom deserting we shall destroy and
injure that principle in us which may be assumed to be improved by justice
and deteriorated by injustice; is there not such a principle?
Cr. Certainly there is, Socrates.
Soc. Take a parallel instance; if, acting under the advice of
men who have no understanding, we destroy that which is improvable by health
and deteriorated by disease- when that has been destroyed, I say, would
life be worth having? And that is- the body?
Cr. Yes.
Soc. Could we live, having an evil and corrupted body?
Cr. Certainly not.
Soc. And will life be worth having, if that higher part of
man be depraved, which is improved by justice and deteriorated by injustice? Do
we suppose that principle, whatever it may be in man, which has to dowith
justice and injustice, to be inferior to the body?
Cr. Certainly not.
Soc. More honored, then?
Cr. Far more honored.
Soc. Then, my friend, we must not regard what the many say of
us: but what he, the one man who has understanding of just and unjust, will
say, and what the truth will say. And therefore you begin in error when
you suggest that we should regard the opinion of the many about just and
unjust, good and evil, honorable and dishonorable. Well, someone will say,
"But the many can kill us."
Cr. Yes, Socrates; that will clearly be the answer.
Soc. That is true; but still I find with surprise that the old
argument is, as I conceive, unshaken as ever. And I should like to know
Whether I may say the same of another proposition- that not life, but
a good life, is to be chiefly valued?
Cr. Yes, that also remains.
Soc. And a good life is equivalent to a just and honorable one-
that holds also?
Cr. Yes, that holds.
Soc. From these premises I proceed to argue the question whether
I ought or ought not to try to escape without the consent of the Athenians:
and if I am clearly right in escaping, then I will make the attempt;
but if not, I will abstain. The other considerations which you mention,
of money and loss of character, and the duty of educating children, are,
I fear, only the doctrines of the multitude, who would be as ready to
call people to life, if they were able, as they are to put them to death- and
with as little reason. But now, since the argument has thus far prevailed, the
only question which remains to be considered is, whether we shall do rightly
either in escaping or in suffering others to aid in our escape and
paying them in money and thanks, or whether we shan not do rightly; and
if the latter, then death or any other calamity which may ensue on my
remaining here must not be allowed to enter into the calculation.
Cr. I think that you are right, Socrates; how then shall we
proceed?
Soc. Let us consider the matter together, and do you either refute
me if you can, and I will be convinced; or else cease, my dear friend, from
repeating to me that I ought to escape against the wishes of the Athenians: for
I am extremely desirous to be persuaded by you, but not against my own
better judgment. And now please to consider my first position, and do
your best to answer me.
Cr. I will do my best.
Soc. Are we to say that we are never intentionally to do wrong,
or that in one way we ought and in another way we ought not to do wrong,
or is doing wrong always evil and dishonorable, as I was just now saying,
and as has been already acknowledged by us? Are all our former admissions
which were made within a few days to be thrown away? And have we,
at our age, been earnestly discoursing with one another all our life long
only to discover that we are no better than children? Or are we to rest
assured, in spite of the opinion of the many, and in spite of consequences whether
better or worse, of the truth of what was then said, that injustice is
always an evil and dishonor to him who acts unjustly? Shall we affirm that?
Cr. Yes.
Soc. Then we must do no wrong?
Cr. Certainly not.
Soc. Nor when injured injure in return, as the many imagine; for
we must injure no one at all?
Cr. Clearly not.
Soc. Again, Crito, may we do evil?
Cr. Surely not, Socrates.
Soc. And what of doing evil in return for evil, which is the
morality of the many-is that just or not?
Cr. Not just.
Soc. For doing evil to another is the same as injuring him?
Cr. Very true.
Soc. Then we ought not to retaliate or render evil for evil to
anyone, whatever evil we may have suffered from him. But I would have you
consider, Crito, whether you really mean what you are saying. For this opinion
has never been held, and never will be held, by any considerable number
of persons; and those who are agreed and those who are not agreed upon
this point have no common ground, and can only despise one another, when
they see how widely they differ. Tell me, then, whether you agree with
and assent to my first principle, that neither injury nor retaliation nor
warding off evil by evil is ever right. And shall that be the premise of
our agreement? Or do you decline and dissent from this? For this has been
of old and is still my opinion; but, if you are of another opinion, let
me hear what you have to say. If, however, you remain of the same mind as
formerly, I will proceed to the next step.
Cr. You may proceed, for I have not changed my mind.
Soc. Then I will proceed to the next step, which may be put
in the form of a question: Ought a man to do what he admits to be right, or
ought he to betray the right?
Cr. He ought to do what he thinks right.
Soc. But if this is true, what is the application? In leaving the
prison against the will of the Athenians, do I wrong any? or rather do
I not wrong those whom I ought least to wrong? Do I not desert the principles which
were acknowledged by us to be just? What do you say?
Cr. I cannot tell, Socrates, for I do not know.
Soc. Then consider the matter in this way: Imagine that I
am about to play truant (you may call the proceeding by any name which you
like), and the laws and the government come and interrogate me: "Tell us,
Socrates," they say; "what are you about? are you going by an act of yours
to overturn us- the laws and the whole State, as far as in you lies? Do
you imagine that a State can subsist and not be overthrown, in which the
decisions of law have no power, but are set aside and overthrown by individuals?"
What will be our answer, Crito, to these and the like words? Anyone,
and especially a clever rhetorician, will have a good deal to urge about
the evil of setting aside the law which requires a sentence to be carried
out; and we might reply, "Yes; but the State has injured us and given
an unjust sentence." Suppose I say that?
Cr. Very good, Socrates.
Soc. "And was that our agreement with you?" the law would sar, "or were
you to abide by the sentence of the State?" And if I were to express astonishment
at their saying this, the law would probably add: "Answer, Socrates,
instead of opening your eyes: you are in the habit of asking and
answering questions. Tell us what complaint you have to make against us
which justifies you in attempting to destroy us and the State? In the first
place did we not bring you into existence? Your father married your mother
by our aid and begat you. Say whether you have any objection to urge
against those of us who regulate marriage?" None, I should reply. "Or
against those of us who regulate the system of nurture and education of
children in which you were trained? Were not the laws, who have the charge
of this, right in commanding your father to train you in music and gymnastic?"
Right, I should reply. "Well, then, since you were brought into
the world and nurtured and educated by us, can you deny in the first place
that you are our child and slave, as your fathers were before you? And
if this is true you are not on equal terms with us; nor can you think that
you have a right to do to us what we are doing to you. Would you have any
right to strike or revile or do any other evil to a father or to your master,
if you had one, when you have been struck or reviled by him, or received
some other evil at his hands?- you would not say this? And because we
think right to destroy you, do you think that you have any right to destroy
us in return, and your country as far as in you lies? And will you,
O professor of true virtue, say that you are justified in this? Has a
philosopher like you failed to discover that our country is more to be valued
and higher and holier far than mother or father or any ancestor, and
more to be regarded in the eyes of the gods and of men of understanding? also
to be soothed, and gently and reverently entreated when angry, even more
than a father, and if not persuaded, obeyed? And when we are punished by
her, whether with imprisonment or stripes, the punishment is to be endured in
silence; and if she leads us to wounds or death in battle, thither we follow
as is right; neither may anyone yield or retreat or leave his rank, but
whether in battle or in a court of law, or in any other place, he must do
what his city and his country order him; or he must change their view of
what is just: and if he may do no violence to his father or mother, much
less may he do violence to his country." What answer shall we make to
this, Crito? Do the laws speak truly, or do they not?
Cr. I think that they do.
Soc. Then the laws will say: "Consider, Socrates, if this is
true, that in your present attempt you are going to do us wrong. For, after
having brought you into the world, and nurtured and educated you, and given
you and every other citizen a share in every good that we had to give,
we further proclaim and give the right to every Athenian, that if
he does not like us when he has come of age and has seen the ways of the
city, and made our acquaintance, he may go where he pleases and take his
goods with him; and none of us laws will forbid him or interfere with him.
Any of you who does not like us and the city, and who wants to go to
a colony or to any other city, may go where he likes, and take his goods with
him. But he who has experience of the manner in which we order justice and
administer the State, and still remains, has entered into an implied contract
that he will do as we command him. And he who disobeys us is, as
we maintain, thrice wrong: first, because in disobeying us he is disobeying his
parents; secondly, because we are the authors of his education; thirdly, because
he has made an agreement with us that he will duly obey our commands; and
he neither obeys them nor convinces us that our commands are wrong; and
we do not rudely impose them, but give him the alternative of obeying or
convincing us; that is what we offer and he does neither. These are the
sort of accusations to which, as we were saying, you, Socrates, will be
exposed if you accomplish your intentions; you, above all other Athenians." Suppose
I ask, why is this? they will justly retort upon me that I above all
other men have acknowledged the agreement. "There is clear proof," they
will say, "Socrates, that we and the city were not displeasing to you.
Of all Athenians you have been the most constant resident in the city, which,
as you never leave, you may be supposed to love. For you never went out
of the city either to see the games, except once when you went to the Isthmus,
or to any other place unless when you were on military service; nor
did you travel as other men do. Nor had you any curiosity to know other States
or their laws: your affections did not go beyond us and our State; we
were your especial favorites, and you acquiesced in our government of you;
and this is the State in which you begat your children, which is a proof
of your satisfaction. Moreover, you might, if you had liked, have fixed
the penalty at banishment in the course of the trial-the State which refuses
to let you go now would have let you go then. But you pretended that
you preferred death to exile, and that you were not grieved at death. And
now you have forgotten these fine sentiments, and pay no respect to us,
the laws, of whom you are the destroyer; and are doing what only a miserable
slave would do, running away and turning your back upon the compacts and
agreements which you made as a citizen. And first of all answer this very
question: Are we right in saying that you agreed to be governed according to
us in deed, and not in word only? Is that true or not?" How shall we answer
that, Crito? Must we not agree?
Cr. There is no help, Socrates.
Soc. Then will they not say: "You, Socrates, are breaking the
covenants and agreements which you made with us at your leisure, not in
any haste or under any compulsion or deception, but having had seventy
years to think of them, during which time you were at liberty to leave
the city, if we were not to your mind, or if our covenants appeared to
you to be unfair. You had your choice, and might have gone either to Lacedaemon
or Crete, which you often praise for their good government, or to some
other Hellenic or foreign State. Whereas you, above all other Athenians,
seemed to be so fond of the State, or, in other words, of us her laws (for
who would like a State that has no laws?), that you never stirred out of
her: the halt, the blind, the maimed, were not more stationary in her than
you were. And now you run away and forsake your agreements. Not so, Socrates,
if you will take our advice; do not make yourself ridiculous by escaping
out of the city.
"For just consider, if you transgress and err in this sort of way, what
good will you do, either to yourself or to your friends? That your friends
will be driven into exile and deprived of citizenship, or will lose their
property, is tolerably certain; and you yourself, if you fly to one of
the neighboring cities, as, for example, Thebes or Megara, both of which
are well-governed cities, will come to them as an enemy, Socrates, and
their government will be against you, and all patriotic citizens will cast
an evil eye upon you as a subverter of the laws, and you will confirm in
the minds of the judges the justice of their own condemnation of you. For
he who is a corrupter of the laws is more than likely to be corrupter of
the young and foolish portion of mankind. Will you then flee from well-ordered
cities and virtuous men? and is existence worth having on these terms?
Or will you go to them without shame, and talk to them, Socrates? And what
will you say to them? What you say here about virtue and justice and institutions
and laws being the best things among men? Would that be decent of you?
Surely not. But if you go away from well-governed States to Crito's friends
in Thessaly, where there is great disorder and license, they will be charmed
to have the tale of your escape from prison, set off with ludicrous particulars
of the manner in which you were wrapped in a goatskin or some other disguise,
and metamorphosed as the fashion of runaways is- that is very likely; but
will there be no one to remind you that in your old age you violated the
most sacred laws from a miserable desire of a little more life? Perhaps
not, if you keep them in a good temper; but if they are out of temper you
will hear many degrading things; you will live, but how?- as the flatterer
of all men, and the servant of all men; and doing what?- eating and drinking
in Thessaly, having gone abroad in order that you may get a dinner. And
where will be your fine sentiments about justice and virtue then? Say that
you wish to live for the sake of your children, that you may bring them
up and educate them- will you take them into Thessaly and deprive them
of Athenian citizenship? Is that the benefit which you would confer upon
them? Or are you under the impression that they will be better cared for
and educated here if you are still alive, although absent from them; for
that your friends will take care of them? Do you fancy that if you are
an inhabitant of Thessaly they will take care of them, and if you are an
inhabitant of the other world they will not take care of them? Nay; but
if they who call themselves friends are truly friends, they surely will.
"Listen, then, Socrates, to us who have brought you up. Think not of
life and children first, and of justice afterwards, but of justice first,
that you may be justified before the princes of the world below. For neither
will you nor any that belong to you be happier or holier or juster in this
life, or happier in another, if you do as Crito bids. Now you depart in
innocence, a sufferer and not a doer of evil; a victim, not of the laws,
but of men. But if you go forth, returning evil for evil, and injury for
injury, breaking the covenants and agreements which you have made with
us, and wronging those whom you ought least to wrong, that is to say, yourself,
your friends, your country, and us, we shall be angry with you while you
live, and our brethren, the laws in the world below, will receive you as
an enemy; for they will know that you have done your best to destroy us.
Listen, then, to us and not to Crito."
This is the voice which I seem to hear murmuring in my ears, like the
sound of the flute in the ears of the mystic; that voice, I say, is humming
in my ears, and prevents me from hearing any other. And I know that anything
more which you will say will be in vain. Yet speak, if you have anything
to say.
Cr. I have nothing to say, Socrates.
Soc. Then let me follow the intimations of the will of God.
THE END
